


Camelot Knits

by archaeologist_d



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Arthur is a Prat, Canon Era, Canon Universe, Fluff and Angst, Gift Giving, Knitting, M/M, Silly, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27822925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeologist_d/pseuds/archaeologist_d
Summary: Knitting can’t be that hard, can it? Relationships are harder. And Merlin’s assumptions about gifts and Winter Solstice and Arthur are hardest of all.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 114
Collections: WinterKnights 2020 - a Merlin Winter/Holiday Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Winterknights prompts:** Merlin starts knitting. He's not really good at it but he's determined to gift all his friends hand-made gifts for Christmas!  
>  **Author's Notes:**  
>  Thanks so much to gwyllion for the awesome beta. She’s a star! She went through this all with a fine-toothed comb and it needed it! Luckily for me, she’s also an avid knitter. I last knit a lifetime ago so pretty much forgot everything I’d ever known about it. Good thing she saved my butt. Also, any and all errors are mine!  
> Some of it inspired by Magic Blankets by Lady_Lombax where Anakin Skywalker crocheting saves the galaxy.  
> Bad brass jokes - https://parade.com/998354/jessicasager/bad-jokes/

His mum always told Merlin that starting with the right ingredients made for a better cake. He wasn’t sure that knitting was the same thing as cake baking, but he’d been saving forever just to get the softest wool and the most beautiful colours and frankly, how hard could it be to knit his friends gifts for Winter Solstice? It couldn’t be more than a matter of knit-one purl-one and there you go, scarves and sweaters and fingerless gloves galore.

Of course, he could have used magic, but there would be questions and suspicions and Merlin wasn’t sure he’d be able to lie his way through it all. Besides, really, how hard could it be?

It wasn’t until he asked Gwen that he realised that maybe, just maybe, he was in over his head.

Gwen was patience personified, showing him over and over again how to cast onto the needles.

“No, Merlin, watch me and do as I do,” Gwen said, casting a perfect starter line onto her knitting needles. She went through it so slowly, too, slow enough that a child could have caught on.

But Merlin was terrible at it. He had two left feet or two left thumbs or whatever… and it looked like the yarn had vomited all over his lap, nothing like what Gwen had done, the wool a thready mess of knots and tangles mostly not on the knitting needles. And no matter how hard he tried, the ball of yarn kept rolling away, almost as if it were afraid of what he’d do next. It was a disaster.

He could tell that Gwen wanted to yank it all out of his hands and finish it up herself. He caught her rolling her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking, but she merely rewound the yarn back on the ball and waited for him to start again. After a couple of more tries, she put the needles in his hands and she grabbed his fingers, positioning them just so, and made him cast on again, slow as molasses in winter.

“Now watch what I do. See the way my fingers help the yarn go onto the needle, then pulling it through, and over again. Now you try,” she said, pulling the wool under and over, making it look so damned easy.

Finally, finally, after an hour of torture, he had a cast-on that didn’t look like a griffin had mangled it into submission.

Gwen was grinning as if he’d won a prize or something. But Merlin had to do more than just cast on, so she started talking about what to do next. “For now, we’re just going to use the same needles for everything but once you get the hang of it, there are many sizes, thick and thin that will make for a fine weave or a coarse one. The yarn, too, makes a difference, but you have some of the nicest I’ve seen.”

At this point, he just wanted to say the hell with it and give it all to her and find some other way of making gifts for his friends. Potions might be a good choice—Gwaine and some of the other knights could use hangover remedies—or he could promise to do their chores for them. Anything but knitting.

Gwen must have seen how upset he was. Gently, she took the needles with their first row of knitting and showed him how to go in and around and pull the wool strands through again, slow and steady. “See, it’s all the same stitch and once you’ve got the hang of it, it will be so easy. Here, you try.”

By this time, Merlin was exhausted, but Gwen had been so patient about everything, he decided to give it a go, taking the needles from her and trying once more.

Gwen hummed at that, then like before, guided him through it for the first few stitches, then let him try it alone. “Now, do that until the end of the row, then I’ll show you the purl stitch. All knitting really is are those two stitches and then slipping and adding them to the row and then there’s cable and finishing and patterns.” Her voice trailed off when she saw the panic in his eyes. “Don’t worry. Most people will love whatever you create because it came from the heart. Just keep it simple to start.”

“I’d like it to not be embarrassing. I know most of my friends will be kind, but Arthur… well, you know how much of an arse he can be. And he gets all these amazing gifts from his rich friends. He’ll turn up his nose at it or tell me how badly it’s made and mock me until next Solstice. Maybe I should have….” Merlin stumbled to a stop.

Gwen frowned a little, then reached over and patted his hand. “Arthur can be… well, not nice, but I think he’ll appreciate it because you made it for him.”

“Yeah, well the clotpole mocks me about everything else. I figured this won’t be any different.” Just thinking about how Arthur would frown at whatever Merlin gave him made him depressed, or rather more depressed after how great Gwen was being.

“Merlin, I’ve got to get back to Morgana and get her ready for the feast tonight. Do you think you will be okay?” Gwen was biting at her lip, looking worried and tired, and Merlin wasn’t about to make things worse for her.

“Gwen, you’ve been a star. I’ll take it from here.” He held up the knitting, a gormless grin on his face, trying to reassure her.

With that, she sighed a happy relieved sound, then patted his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “I’m sure you will do fine.” And with that, she hurried out of the room, leaving Merlin surrounded with balls of wool and a fate worse than death—knitting.

* * *

Over the next few days, Merlin kept coming back to the fact that he was terrible at it.

But he’d already spent the money and unless his friends would like balls of yarn—although Gwaine would probably love it, Merlin was determined to see it through.

Night after night, well past the time he needed for sleep, he’d struggle with the knitting. He finally got the first few rows down, in a lovely blue for Gwen, then proceeded to knit and purl with the best or worst of them. What came out was wonky. He had missed one loop somewhere back near the beginning and after several lines of knitting, it looked lopsided and then the wool started pulling out into patchy holes.

It was hideous. He knew that if he gave it to Gwen, she would put on a fake smile and tell him how well he’d done, but they’d both know it would be a lie. So, sighing, he pulled it all apart and started over.

The second time was better. The lines were still looking more like he’d knit it while drunk which sadly was not the case, but if he tugged at it a bit, trying to get it into the correct shape, at least it was usable.

Since he was making fingerless mitts, he had to knit two. When he was done, one was twice the size of the other. Sigh.

Still, he kept trying. He knit two more mitts in the same colour and at last he could breathe again. Yes, the next two were different sizes but he could mix and match the four well enough that he now had two almost good enough sets of mitts.

Better yet, he was starting to get the hang of it. He found that if he knit a few stitches and purled a few more, he could make patterns. It was kind of amazing. Merlin felt almost giddy as he started on his mum’s gift, a soft shawl in greens and blues. He even tried a complicated pattern, but it wasn’t working as well as he’d hoped and he finally just gave up and used magic to fix it.

It felt a little like cheating, but his mum would love it anyway and at least that way, he could also make it feel as soft as silk and warm enough for even the coldest of winters. It was like giving her a hug, his magic protecting her as it had when he was growing up, from his heart to hers.

Once he did that, though, he thought maybe magic _could_ be incorporated into the gifts as long as it was subtle, infusing them with a sense of home or comfort or whatever else the giftee needed. A warm embrace in tangible form. He would have to be careful, though. Too much of a good thing and they might look at the gifts and at him with suspicion.

So when he knitted a set of fingerless gloves for Gaius, they were flexible enough to wear even while making delicate potions, and fire-proof, too. Lance’s scarf would harden just a bit whenever something was flying at him, arrows or lances or a wayward monster. It would help deflect the danger. Gwaine’s scarf tightened around his shoulders when he was feeling down, a phantom hug just light enough to be explained away with the stretch and pull of the yarn. Leon’s shawl was created to remind him of home whenever he got a letter from his mum. Percival’s wrap would lighten his darker nights when memories of the death of his family became too much. Elyan’s, too, would bring him memories of happier times when his dad and mum were still alive.

Because things were really starting to look up, he redid Gwen’s gloves with her name woven in, putting in a subtle magic so that when she put them on, they would lightly massage her hands whenever she felt overwhelmed with work. He made sure the magic wasn’t strong enough to be alarming but that the weave of the mitts would be enough to explain how it worked.

Morgana’s mitts had an intricate labyrinthian weave in them that she could follow with her fingers and lighten her anxiety.

All that was left was Arthur’s gift. Merlin was stumped, though. Arthur could have anything he wanted. Rich enough to send for Eastern silks or the finest of linens. Of all his friends, Merlin couldn’t cheat and use magic to make it perfect because Arthur, clotpole that he was, wouldn’t believe Merlin had made it himself. He would push and pull and be annoying enough that Merlin might blurt out something that would best be left alone.

Finally, he decided to make a red scarf with a dragon pattern woven through it. Merlin couldn’t afford to use real gold to make it stand out, so he hoped the subtle patterning and the love he’d put into it would be enough. And he hoped Arthur wouldn’t mock him for such a handmade gift.

Merlin finished just in time.

* * *

On the morning of the Solstice, before he woke Arthur up for the day’s festivities, Merlin and Gaius exchanged gifts. Gaius, proud and with a decidedly instructive air, gave Merlin a book of Greek remedies and promised to teach him something of the language. It was a rare and precious thing and Merlin knew it wasn’t just about teaching him more of the physician’s arts but passing along his knowledge as from a father to a son.

Merlin beamed, hugging it to his chest for a moment. “I will guard it with my life.”

“Reading through it will be payment enough, my boy,” Gaius said, smiling. When Merlin gave him the fingerless gloves, Gaius looked them over. “Is this what you’ve been so secretive about? These are finely made.”

“Gwen taught me to knit. I wasn’t very good at the beginning but I’m glad you like them.” Merlin leaned closer. “I didn’t use magic to knit them, but after, I used a little… well, they are fire-proof, too.”

“Merlin, that could be dangerous.” Gaius looked down at the gloves, then back at Merlin. “If anyone were to find out….”

“Don’t worry. I put just enough magic into them to do the trick but not enough to be obvious. Try them on. I hope they fit properly.”

They were perfect. Gaius flexed his fingers a couple of times, then nodded. “It’s a fine gift, Merlin. Thank you.”

Merlin beamed at him, then gathered up Arthur’s gift. He figured he’d see the rest of his friends sometime during the day, but it was just easier to drop off Arthur’s present and get on with his chores after.

* * *

Arthur didn’t even mention gift-giving. He just glowered at Merlin as he pulled open the curtains and tried to rouse him. Merlin said, “Rise and shine, clotpole. You’ve a big day ahead of you. First there is the knighting ceremony, then the king wants you to go over some issue with stores, then lunch. No training today but if you like, you can bash the dummy I set up in the armoury. I know how you much you like to hit things. Then…”

Arthur threw a pillow at him. “Oh for the love of…, Merlin, shut up.” Then he plopped back under the covers.

Uther would have a few words and a lot of punishment for Merlin if Arthur were late, so gritting his teeth, Merlin pulled off the covers again. Or rather he tried to pull off the covers. Arthur was surprisingly strong for someone who lazed about in bed when everyone else was up and getting ready for the day.

“Arthur, come on,” Merlin said, as he yanked and twisted and pulled the covers back with all his might. For a second, he thought about using magic. Arthur was being more stubborn than usual. But Arthur suddenly let go and Merlin went flying backwards. “Ow!”

His arse hurting, Merlin stood up, put his fists on his hips, and scowled at the cabbagehead. “If you don’t get up soon, the king will put me in the stocks again and it snowed last night. And then you won’t be able to order me around because I’ll have frozen to death.”

“At least then I’ll get some peace and quiet,” said Arthur the prat, leaning back against the pillows and tugging the covers straight across his lap. How he could look so good in the morning with his golden hair all mussed up and a red mark on his cheek from pillow creases was beyond Merlin.

Staring at the prat for a moment or two, feeling himself grow warm with fondness, Merlin finally shook himself free of the nonsense going on in his head.

Shrugging, Merlin said, “I’m sure George will be glad to take my place. He’s got new brass jokes he’d _love_ to tell you about. Several times.”

That did the trick. Scowling, Arthur waved his hand around, like he was shooing away flies or pesky servants, then pointed to the armoire. “Fine, I’ll be wearing my red velvet doublet for the feast tonight. Make sure the buttons are polished properly. Not like last time.”

“Heaven forfend that your buttons aren’t shiny enough.” Merlin rolled his eyes, making sure that Arthur saw him doing it. But when Arthur just gave him a look that spoke volumes of him knowing what Merlin was up to, Merlin relented. “Fine, fine. Your breakfast is on the table. Unless… you’d like me to serve it to you in bed.” He stopped a moment, his face flushing as he stammered, “Wait, that’s… that’s not what I meant.”

“Really, Merlin, tell me more.” Arthur’s smug grin was annoying, with just a hint of something else, interest maybe… or it could be Arthur was just being a wanker as usual.

“You arse. If you are going to lounge around being a pompous git, that’s on you. I’m certainly not going to hover over you, shoving sausages into your mouth while you moan about the job I’m doing… oh, god, wait, that didn’t sound right either.” Merlin was digging himself in deeper, his face hot with embarrassment.

Arthur’s eyebrows were going up, looking more and more amused by the whole thing. Mocking, Arthur said, “Moaning? Sausages? You are just full of surprises today, aren’t you, Merlin?”

“Do you want breakfast or not?” Merlin growled out. He certainly didn’t want to think about shoving things in and Arthur moaning. That way lay madness.

“Of course, I want breakfast.” Arthur got to his feet and began putting on the tunic Merlin had laid out for him. As he sat down and began to eat, he must have spotted Merlin’s gift to him. It sat at the end of the table, wrapped carefully in parchment and red ribbon. “What’s that?”

Merlin felt quite shy about it. After all, it would be nothing to the other fine gifts Arthur would get for Solstice. Last year, there had been new and intricately inscribed swords, a beautiful horse trained in warfare, a mace that Arthur used a lot whenever he was trying to bash Merlin’s head in, a set of perfectly balanced throwing knives, clothes and cloaks, and a new circlet for that fat shiny head of his.

Merlin was sure this year would be no different. How could he compete with such riches, especially on his income? He began to think that it was all a big mistake, that he should have just ignored the whole thing and let Arthur think what he wanted. He should have got him some candied fruit from the market and been done with it.

It was too late now. Gesturing to the wrapped present, Merlin said, “Your Solstice gift from me. You don’t have to open it now if you….”

For a moment, there was flash of something in Arthur’s eyes, then he shrugged and popped a piece of sausage in his mouth. Chewing, Arthur said, “We’ll save it for tonight. I have knights to knight and my father isn’t the most patient man. I have something for you as well. I hope it fits.”

“What is it? A cloak, a new neckerchief?” Merlin could use some new clothes. His tunics were getting threadbare and his two pair of trousers had already been repaired several times. Unfortunately, he had spent all his extra savings on yarn.

“You’ll see.” Eating a couple of grapes, Arthur was finally finished with breakfast, making a mess as usual. But as he got up and started to buckle on his sword belt, he said, “We’ll open them together right before the feast, all right?” As he passed Merlin, he slapped him on the arm, not hard but not gently either, then smiled as he nodded toward the door. “It’s a big day, lots to do. You’ll need to help with the decorations for the Great Hall and serve me at table tonight. It’ll be fun.”

Yeah, Merlin had heard that before, too, and it was never fun, at least not for Merlin. 

* * *

After the knighting ceremony, Merlin thought to finish up polishing Arthur’s buttons and make sure everything was ready for later, but Gwen had other ideas. Telling him to meet her at Morgana’s room, that they’d be exchanging gifts then, Merlin was a bit reluctant. Just because Gaius liked his gift didn’t mean that the gifts to his other friends would be welcome. Still, Gwen had helped him so much so the least he could do was plough on ahead and face whatever disappointment she had with him.

When he arrived, Morgana and Gwen were giggling, sharing glasses of wine by the look and smell of it, and there were sweets and fancy little cakes on the table. Gwen had something shiny in her hair, it looked like a decorated comb of some kind, and Morgana was wearing a little capelet with flowers and mythical creatures embroidered on it. Gwen must have spent days working on it. There were other gifts, too, strewn on Morgana’s bed, mostly brushes and clothing, likely from nobles trying to vie for her favour. Merlin assumed Uther’s gifts to her and Arthur’s would be opened at the feast as they had done in years past.

Morgana gestured him to come in and have a glass. But Merlin shook his head. “I’ve a ton of work later and if I drink any of that, I’ll be tomorrow’s gossip. Gaius says that one whiff of a barmaid’s apron and I’m singing like a sailor and believe me, you do not want to hear me sing.”

Smiling, Gwen said, “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve heard some of your songs and they are quite… entertaining.” She took a sip. “And a little bird told me that you play that drum thing, a bodhran, I think?”

“Listening to birds again?” Merlin took a bite of one of the cakes. The explosion of taste as he bit down was amazing. “Did my mum tell you about it?” When Gwen nodded, Merlin just shook his head. “There’s not one in Camelot, and besides, Arthur runs me ragged. I don’t have time for anything… umm… frivolous.”

Morgana pulled him over and sat him down in one of her ornate chairs. “Don’t pay attention to Arthur. He’s got his head up his backside. Besides, I’d love to hear you play. But first, Gwen and I have gifts for you.”

Nodding, Merlin gave them theirs, both tied up with cloth and decorated with bits of pine and holly leaves. 

Gwen was thrilled with hers. “Oh, Merlin, you finally… they are lovely.” She put them on right away, then as she wiggled her fingers a little, she said, “They feel great. And did you… oh, my name’s woven in.” She pulled him into a hug, then grinning she handed him his gift.

Knitting needles, in several sizes, and fine linen yarn, enough for a scarf. “You seemed so determined I thought you would like more, just in case. Is that all right?”

Merlin grinned. “Thanks so much.” Then he gave her another hug.

Clearing her throat a little, Morgana gave him a small velvet bag. When he opened it, there were two oranges, something precious in Camelot. They were decorated with swirls of cloves and tied with red ribbons edged in gold. They smelt delicious. Merlin was thrilled.

He did wonder, though, if Morgana realised that a pomander was used as a charm by witches for protection and good luck. But it didn’t matter. They would brighten up his room and chase away the smells of Gaius’s potions.

She, too, was happy about the mitts, the green yarn shimmering in the light, and her fingers began to trace the pattern he’d woven into it. “When Gwen told me she was teaching you to knit, I thought it would be plain scarves and little things. This is lovely. You have a real talent, Merlin.”

When Merlin grinned and blushed at the compliment, Morgana’s smile turned a bit wicked. “But there is one last gift from us both.” She handed him a large box and when he opened it, a little worried, inside was a bodhran. “I hope you will play for us?”

Taking out the drum, its edges finely decorated in a knotted pattern of greens and yellows, he tapped it once to test the sound, then picked up the tipper that came with it and began to tap out a little song he’d learned a long time ago. His voice rough with memory, he began to hum one of his village’s melodies in time with the beat. Both Gwen and Morgana sat beside him, listening, rapt.

When he was done, Gwen was grinning. Morgana told him to play another, and he decided to do one they knew. He’d heard it before in Camelot. “Only if you sing along.”

Before he knew it, they had been singing for what seemed like hours. Merlin was thirsty so he drank a little wine, watered down, just enough to relax but not enough to fall asleep in the middle of a song. There was laughter and Gwen and Morgana were dancing and everything was so nice and warm that Merlin wanted to stay there forever.

The door banging open startled them all. Merlin didn’t drop the bodhran, but he let it slip a little and the tipper clattered to the floor. Gwen let out a little yelp, very soft, but Morgana just turned, a knife in her hand, to see Arthur standing there, glowering at Merlin.

“Where the hell have you been?” Arthur strode into the room, his arms waving like maniacal things. “I’ve been calling for your lazy backside this past hour. Don’t tell me you’ve been skivying off having fun with Morgana and Gwen when you should be serving me.”

Merlin opened his mouth, ready to yell back, but Morgana beat him to it. “You are ridiculous. It’s Winter Solstice and we are supposed to be having fun. It’s the one day Merlin is allowed to be a person and not your slave.”

Scowling at her, Arthur said, “My father has insisted that Merlin be by my side serving lunch, then he’s expected to help with the decorations. He can rest later.”

“Arthur, don’t be an arse. You know you don’t have to do everything Uther tells you to…,” Morgana said.

“Merlin can have tomorrow off. But today, he’s needed.” With that, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s arm and began to hurry him away.

Morgana grabbed the bodhran, her eyes narrowed at Arthur, then called after Merlin, “I’ll make sure your gifts are delivered to you later, Merlin. And Arthur, I hope you choke on it.”

* * *

Merlin refused to talk to Arthur. The git was unbelievable, but Merlin did what he had to, serving both Uther and Arthur at table while they argued about stores and the coming spring and whether Cenred would try to seize territory while winter blanketed Camelot. Afterwards, Arthur told Merlin to come to his chambers before the feast, to help him dress, but until then, lend a hand with the Great Hall’s adornments. No mention of Merlin’s gift.

Merlin wondered if Arthur had even opened it. Merlin wondered if he should have cursed it instead.

* * *

It only got worse. When Merlin went to dress Arthur for supper, Arthur’s stupid buttons polished and shiny and Arthur humming some happy little tune.

But things started looking up once Arthur was dressed. Grinning, he went behind a screen and said, “Merlin, I’ve your Solstice present here. I know you couldn’t find the last one and seeing how much you _loved_ it, I had a new one made specially for you.”

Merlin couldn’t figure out what it could be. He had lost a lot of things over the years he’d served Arthur but at least Arthur had been thoughtful enough to replace whatever it was. Still no mention about his own gift to Arthur. Maybe he lost it. Maybe he never opened it up. Maybe he hated it.

Sighing, Merlin started to say, “Thank you, my….” But then stopped when he saw what Arthur was holding up. “No, absolutely not.”

In Arthur’s hand was a new hat with even more feathers on it, glitter and ribbons spewed all over it. It was more garish than the one Merlin had conveniently misplaced some time ago when Arthur had tried to humiliate him before the whole court. This one was overflowing with bright red and green and vibrant purple feathers, an assault to his eyes. It hurt to look at it, never mind being forced to wear it.

“Happy Solstice, Merlin,” Arthur said, grinning. “And since you’ll be representing me and the royal servants of Camelot, I expect you to wear it to the feast. I even had it made to match the decorations in the Great Hall. Wouldn’t want you to clash. I am sure you will be the hit of the party.”

“I refuse to wear that monstrosity.” Merlin was incandescently furious. And when Arthur wiggled it about, grinning, then shoved it toward Merlin, Merlin sent him a look that would have frightened lesser men. “No, not happening.”

“Come _on_ , Merlin. You know you want to,” Arthur said. He looked at it, then up and down at Merlin as if sizing him up. “I’m sure you can carry it off. Those colours against your fair skin and dark hair. It’s perfect. I still have the cape, too, the one with the gold fringe. You’ll have to brush it down a bit as the mice made a nest and chewed a few holes in it. But I’m sure no one would notice, not with this magnificent hat. It will be the talk of the ages.”

Merlin had never been closer to turning Arthur into a toad. And he’d probably have to leave once Uther realised his son was warty and green and croaked a lot. It might be worth it, though, even with Gaius giving him the Eyebrow of Doom.

Not able to speak, his fury flooding his chest, his throat, the glare in his eyes, it took him a while to finally get his rage under control. Grinning like a crazed loon, his jaw clenching so hard it was a wonder that his teeth didn’t crack from the strain, Merlin reached over and ripped the hideous monstrosity out of Arthur’s hands, then threw it into the fireplace.

“Merlin!” Scrambling to grab the fire poker and scrape the hat out of the fire before it burned to a crisp—the feathers were already smouldering, Arthur said, “What are you doing?!”

“I’m quitting! And you can go fuck yourself, you absolute arse.”

Merlin stomped out of Arthur’s chambers, slamming the door behind him, Arthur’s words cut off. “Merlin, come ba….”

Worst Solstice ever.

* * *

Merlin refused to help with the last of the decorations like he had promised. Instead, he went to his room, took out the bottle of Gaius’s special wine and proceeded to drink quite a bit of it.

His friends found Merlin sitting on his bed later that evening, singing like the sailor Gaius always said he would when drunk.

At first, he didn’t recognise anyone. His vision was a little blurry and his room was spinning, just a bit. But he enjoyed the hug, a typical Gwaine one with strength and purpose. Merlin melted into it, turning his face to bury himself into Gwaine’s rough vest.

“Good thing I didn’t give him that flask of wine like I wanted,” Gwaine said to the other blurry figures in the room. “I think our Merlin is a bit under the weather.”

Elyan snorted. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

As he sat there, Gwaine’s arm around his shoulder, Merlin said, “I’m… Arthur’s… a toad… a fat sluggy toad.”

Someone shoved a glass of something under Merlin’s nose, and thinking it was more wine, Merlin took a long gulp, then sputtered as he realised it was water.

It must have been Lancelot, friend and confidant and traitor for giving him something that wasn’t alcohol. Pushing the glass back against Merlin’s mouth, Lancelot said, “Drink it, Merlin, you will feel better.”

When Lance got like that, all concerned and helpful, Merlin couldn’t say no. He swallowed another few gulps down, then slumped against Gwaine. “Arthur’s a….”

“A toad, yes we heard.” Merlin thought it might be Leon but the words were kind of muffled and Leon would never call Arthur a toad so he must be wrong. It must be some other Leon. “Arthur was a bit upset. He thought you would laugh about it.”

“Arthur’s an idiot,” Merlin muttered. “I hope he chokes on those feathers. I… umm… quit.”

Gwaine shifted, squeezing Merlin a little, then letting him go. “We heard. How many times does that make it? Five, six?”

“I’ve lost count,” Merlin said, shrugging. “But I mean it this time.”

Percival said, “Isn’t that what he said the last time?”

“Perce, that’s what he says every time.” Gwaine snickered a little. “Our Merlin is certainly consistent.”

Merlin was feeling a little bit better. His room was full of friends and he could forget about Arthur for a second. Getting up, swaying a bit as he did, Merlin stumbled over to his cupboard and began handing out presents. “I hope you like them. I made them all myself, well, Gwen helped at the beginning. She’s so nice.”

Elyan nodded, Percival just grinned and Lancelot’s face was a little flushed. Leon said, “She is indeed and a good friend to us all.”

Percival was the first to put his wrap on, although it looked more like a scarf with the size of him. The colour was perfect though, blue like his eyes, and he grinned as he pulled it around him. “My mum made one just like this when I was young. Thank you, Merlin.” He reached out, handing Merlin his gift, a honeycomb wrapped in waxed leaves. “Gwaine always liked honey so I though you might, too.”

Touching just the corner, not wanting to waste a drop, Merlin raised his finger to his mouth and sucked on the sweetness. “Thanks so much. It’s perfect. I’ll be able to sweeten Gaius’s… really awful tea and later, when I finished the honey, I can make a candle with the wax.”

“Merlin, mate, I know you don’t like to gamble, not like I do, but I have something special for you,” said Gwaine. “Try them out.” He handed Merlin a little wooden box and inside were dice and a silver coin. When Gwaine lifted one eyebrow, Merlin took out the dice and tossed them, once, twice, three times. They always came up the same. Loaded dice. And the coin kept coming up heads. Only Gwaine.

Gwaine grinned when Merlin sent him a look, but Gwaine must have liked the scarf, all greys and browns, because he immediately put it around his neck and preened a little. “Merlin, you made this? It’s got my name on it. How did you do that?”

“Practice, Gwaine, and a bit of experimenting. I’m so glad you like it.”

Elyan seemed just as pleased with his gift and he gave Merlin a belt buckle with a dragon etched in it. “I talked with Arthur about it… yes, I know he’s a git, but he does know you pretty well. He told me you like dragons, so I thought….”

Merlin got up and gave Elyan a hug, patting him on the back. “I do love dragons. They are mystical creatures and full of… well, yes, thank you.”

Leon was next. Giving Merlin a book of poetry, he said, “I remember that you were teaching Arthur about it so I thought you must like it enough to know something about it.” Merlin nodded.

“I didn’t know you liked poetry, Merlin,” Gwaine said, waggling his eyebrows a bit. “Or do you like _poetry_?”

“Gwaine, you are….” Merlin turned back to Leon. “Thank you, Leon. I’m surprised you remembered that.”

“Well, it’s not every day that I see Arthur enjoying poetry, especially since he’d never shown any interest before,” Leon said. Merlin remember that night so well. It was a bit of a lark to tell Leon that, and Arthur’s face had been hysterical. Merlin reminded Arthur of it every night for weeks after.

“ _Poetry_ ….” Gwaine groaned.

Lancelot glared at Gwaine, then handed Merlin his present wrapped in red ribbon. It was a grey-green neckerchief made of soft linen with Merlin’s name on it. “Gwen did the embroidery work. But I thought you could use a new one since the others are getting a bit… old.”

Merlin rushed over and gave Lance a sharp hug. “It’s wonderful.” Then whispering in his ear, Merlin said, “Your scarf is special. Extra protection when things are flying at you. You know, a little help.” Then as he drew back, Lance nodded.

“Well, the feast is in full swing so we thought we’d keep you with us this time so you could enjoy it without having to keep anyone’s cup full besides your own,” Lancelot said.

Leon spoke up. “We have Arthur’s permission so there won’t be any trouble about it.”

“We had a little discussion with Arthur, just so you know. He was pretty upset about it all,” Elyan said. “He really did mean the hat as a joke. He thought you would find it funny.”

“If we have to keep talking about Arthur, I’m staying here,” Merlin said, sitting down on his bed, folding his arms over his chest. He wasn’t about to be humiliated again in front of his friends, not this time.

Everyone seemed to exchange worried glances, but Merlin was adamant. No talking about Arthur or he was done.

Lance finally nodded. “Okay, Merlin, it’s Solstice after all. No more talk about… anything but food and drink and how pretty the hall is. Okay?”

Merlin thought about it a moment, then nodded. “I was hoping to have dessert. They have the best desserts at Solstice.”

“And mead,” Gwaine said.

Merlin just grinned. “And mead.”


	2. Chapter 2

The Great Hall was full of sound and light and dancing. Seated at the high table were the nobles of court and King Uther at the centre of it all, Arthur and the Lady Morgana flanking him. Before them was a groaning board full of delights with roasted boar as the centrepiece, the finest of meats from farm and forest surrounding it, vegetables cooked to perfection, and pies and desserts of all kinds. Wine and mead were flowing fast, the servants scurrying about keeping the goblets full. And mixing with all the delicious smells of fine food, the scent of pine and burning wood from a huge log flaming bright in the fireplace, wafted in the air.

Merlin had only been in Camelot a few years and yet the Winter Solstice festival never ceased to amaze him with colour and music and excitement. He didn’t dance, of course. He was a mere servant after all, but usually the staff would be sharing the remnants of the feast later. His mouth watered at the memory of the last time. It had been the best food he’d ever eaten and this year, it looked like it would surpass his expectations a thousand-fold.

It felt weird to be sitting with the knights. Other people were giving him the side-eye as if he’d forgotten his place and they were about to remind him of it, but then one of the knights, Leon or Elyan or Lancelot, would have a quiet word, and people would settle down back to their benches and mind their own damned business. Percival didn’t even have to say anything, just glared at them. It was fun to watch.

Arthur kept staring at him. Merlin could feel his gaze, intense, as if trying to tell Merlin something without words. But Merlin wasn’t going to rise to the occasion. He had quit, damn Arthur to hell. If Arthur was going to offer some off-handed non-apology like his usual nonsense, Merlin wasn’t interested. He wasn’t about to crawl back to Arthur no matter how much he wanted to.

He turned away, his back to Arthur, and concentrated to having a good time with his real friends.

It wasn’t until lots of tarts and cakes and a bit of mead had been consumed that George came over to him and said, “His Royal Highness, Prince Arthur, insists on you attending him.”

Merlin glanced at George, then sent a glare to Arthur before turning back to George. “Tell him that I no longer work for him. Congratulations on becoming his manservant, by the way. You are just the sort of servant he’s always wanted, efficient, organised, catering to his every whim. Just be sure and tell him your brass jokes and all about the wonders of brass multiple times as he’s not too bright, and you will do fine.”

“He has already made it clear that he does not appreciate my humour, and specifically about brass. I don’t understand it but if my lord wishes me to remain silent on that, I will certainly do as he requires.” George looked pained but he shook himself a little and said, “His Highness said that you would resist his commands. He told me that if you said no, he insists that you attend him after the feast so that certain misunderstandings might be cleared up. I do not understand why you do not attend him now as he is the prince, and we are but lowly servants, but my lord’s command must remain paramount. Do you agree?”

Merlin sent Arthur another glare, then looked up at George. “And if I don’t?”

George didn’t look surprised at all. Instead, drawing himself up, he nodded. “If you do not agree, His Highness instructed me to tell you as many brass jokes as possible throughout the feast. He insisted that you would appreciate them, although he seemed to be not quite truthful about your reaction. As I remember, you were not receptive to anything having to do with brass, with the exception of polishing it when necessary.”

Merlin felt a little sorry for George. He was insufferably stuffy, but he had a good heart. It was too bad that he was working for the prat when he would have been better suited to other, more staid nobles.

“No, I quit and I’m no longer his servant. He can take his jokes and… stuff them,” Merlin said, not adding the _up-his-arse_ although he wanted to. But he didn’t think George would understand and it wasn’t his fault Arthur was such a prat.

But any sympathy for George vanished when George said, “Since you do not agree, as my lord has commanded me should this occur, here is my first brass joke. I have many more that I will continue to expound upon until you agree to see His Highness. Of course, you must respond with a ‘why’ after each statement.”

“Why?” Merlin wasn’t sure what George had in mind, but he’d play along for a little while. Anything to avoid talking with the royal git again.

George smiled at that. Then gathering himself up, he said, “Correct. You are quite astute. Now here’s the first one. I want a job polishing brass.”

Behind him, Merlin could hear Gwaine giggling. Sending him and a grinning Percival a glare, he turned back to George. “Why?”

George said, in all solemnity, “It’s something I can really see myself doing.” As Merlin rolled his eyes, George nodded. “And another. A man died after cleaning brass.”

Despite Merlin nudging Gwaine to mind his own damn business, Gwaine leaned over and said, “Why?”

As Merlin hissed at Gwaine to shut up, George said, “It was a terrible end, but a beautiful finish.” Then apparently on a roll with all Merlin’s friends paying attention to him, George gave a little bow toward the knights, then said, “If you are interested, I have one not about brass. Why is it called the Dark Ages?”

Elyan piped up, grinning, “Why?”

George stopped a second, then in a breathless voice, clearly having the time of his life, he said, “Because it has too many knights.”

There were several groans from his now-former friends, and Merlin had had enough of brass and any other jokes. Slapping his hand on the table, Merlin said, “That’s enough. I will see the clotpole after the feast. But only to yell at him.”

Looking a little sad that he wouldn’t be able to tell any more jokes just then, George gave Merlin a slight bow. “Ah, he said you would say that as well. Thank you. I will tell him of your acceptance. And thank you for listening to my jokes. I have many more.”

Before Gwaine could make things worse and ask for more really terrible jokes, Merlin glared at them all, then said to George, “Save them for Arthur, George. He deserves to hear every one.”

With that, George seemed to hesitate, then bowing again, he hurried back to Arthur and whispered something in his ear.

Arthur beamed at that, the supercilious cabbagehead, and lifted his wine goblet to Merlin.

Merlin hoped he choked on it.

* * *

Much as Merlin wanted to drink himself into a stupor and avoid dealing with Arthur, Merlin knew he had to get it over with at least. Arthur would hound him or send George to hound him and Gaius would tell him to face his issues with Arthur head on. So after the feast had quieted down and Arthur left the hall, Merlin said good-bye to his friends, and made his way slowly, dragging his feet, to Arthur’s chambers.

He didn’t know what he was going to say. The fury that burned in his chest earlier in the day had settled down into a kind of sadness and if Merlin thought about it, it might slide into misery afterwards. For so long, Arthur had been his friend, had been his whole world. More than any call of destiny, they’d pushed and pulled at each other, sacrificed for each other, laughed and cried and just completed each other. 

Two sides of the same coin, always and forever, or so Merlin had thought.

Now, destiny looked more like chains than glory and Arthur apparently was never a friend, just someone who pretended to be one once in a while, just often enough to confuse Merlin with hopes and dreams of something more than just friendship. Instead, it looked like Arthur thought him a joke and nothing else.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin knocked. Merlin never knocked, but he wasn’t Arthur’s servant anymore and had no right to just barge in. Only after a soft ‘come in’ did Merlin walk in, closing the door behind him.

“You commanded my presence, my lord?” Merlin said, his voice hard.

Arthur was sitting at the table, fiddling with the hideous hat. It was quite scorched, the outer feathers blackened and there was streaks of soot, too. When he saw Merlin, he flung it to one side, then dusted his hands off, and gestured for Merlin to sit next to him.

When Merlin shook his head and stood there, his arms folded across his chest, glowering at him, Arthur the git said, “I see that my strategy was effective.”

“That you had George hound me with brass jokes until I gave in, then yes, my lord, very effective. Bravo, good for you, are we done now? Or do you want to crow about it a while longer?” Merlin was growing furious again. Could Arthur never just admit ever that he was wrong? Apparently not. 

“You forgot your hat,” Arthur said, his fingers dusting across the brittle feathers.

“You can take that hat and shove it up your royal arse, Your _Highness_ ,” Merlin scowled at him.

“Merlin, I am the Prince of Camelot. You can’t talk to me like that. If anyone heard you, my father would have you flogged for it—or worse, cut out your tongue.” Arthur sounded almost worried, but it didn’t matter. Merlin was finished with it all.

Somehow Arthur must have realised just how upset Merlin was, that he was on the edge of doing something rash. Instead of threatening him or sending him off to the dungeons for his impudence, though, Arthur picked up the hat again, shook it a little, watching as some of the ash fell onto the table. Then still holding the feathered horror, he said, in all solemnity, “I don’t think it will fit up there, royal or otherwise.”

Was Arthur trying to joke about this? Merlin stared at him, then snarled, “Well, my duties never included shoving things up your arse, but I could make an exception, just this once.”

Sighing, Arthur tossed the hat aside, smearing filth along the table. For a second, Merlin felt sorry for whoever would have to clean it all up, but only for a second.

“I can see you are angry,” Arthur said.

Merlin knew that telling him off, ranting and bellowing and glaring enough to reach inside that head of Arthur’s and make him understand, wouldn’t make any difference. Arthur would just brush it off and do whatever the hell he wanted. But Merlin couldn’t let it go. He knew it was a fool’s errand, but it might make him feel better. 

Merlin leaned over, his hands flat on the table, staring down at Arthur. “Angry doesn’t cover the half of it. You thought to humiliate me. Again. After everything we’ve been through together. I’m nothing more than a joke to you.” Then he slapped the table, a sharp angry sound, and stood back up.

“That’s not….” Arthur had the bollocks to look unhappy. “I’ll admit that it didn’t come off quite as I had hoped.”

“And what did you think would happen? That I’d bow my head and parade around the court like a fool, that you’d laugh with your thick friends about how stupid I am, that you would think I’d take your contempt and not be upset?”

“Merlin, no,” Arthur said, sounding as if he had no idea what Merlin was talking about, as if he were horrified that Merlin would even think such a thing. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Then what did you mean, you arrogant prat?” Merlin snapped. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks very much like that’s what you meant.”

Arthur looked over to the hat, grimacing. “I knew you’d find the thing hideous. That was the point. You’d protest, you’d make up some ridiculous name for me as an insult for making you wear it, I’d mock you for being the worst servant in the Five Kingdoms, and….”

Wanting to shout at Arthur again, instead Merlin said, flat and angry and decided, “And what, parading me around? Laughing at me? Making me look the idiot?”

“You really are an idiot.” Arthur stood up, looking put upon and annoyed, too. “If you won’t listen to me, then I don’t know what else to say.”

“Fine, say it and be done with it.” Merlin stood there, arms crossed, glaring at him.

“Fine.” Arthur glared back at him, his scowl sending daggers in Merlin’s direction. “When Bayard came, I made you wear that ridiculous red and green hat. Yes, I had made it especially for you, of course, and yes, I was out to embarrass you. You were still a pain in my arse, and you were annoying and made me laugh and intrigued me in spite of everything and I didn’t know how to deal with you.”

Merlin nodded. Of course, he had. Gwen had let it slip later that no servant of Camelot ever wore such an outfit, that Arthur harassed the royal hat-makers into making it to Arthur’s exacting specifications. Wanker.

Looking a little ashamed, Arthur said, “Then you drank poison for me, despite me being awful to you, and nearly lost your life as a result. It was a wake-up call. I thought we understood each other after that, that we would have our own ways of dealing with each other. I’d mock you, you’d insult me, and we’d both be better for it. And it worked for the most part.”

In his heart of hearts, Merlin had to admit that it was true. The push and pull between them might look like insults and bullying and insolence to everyone else, but it worked. For the most part. But not always.

“But not always.” Arthur picked up the hat, shaking it a little, then putting it back down again, his fingers brushing through the burnt feathers. He cleaned off his hand on his trousers, leaving a long sooty mark. Walking over to Merlin, sighing, a put-upon sound, Arthur said, “I thought you would throw it at me. Honestly, I did. Then I’d throw it back, then you’d growl out some insult and I’d call you a girl’s petticoat and a buffoon, then we’d have tug-of-war with the hat and wrestling over it, and when we were done, there would be feathers everywhere and we’d be laughing about it.”

“That’s what goes inside your head?” When Arthur nodded, Merlin said, “And I’m the idiot?”

“Hey!” Arthur scowled at that. “This is what we do. All the time. Argue and insult and laugh about it after. Why wouldn’t I think it would work this time?”

At least, it sort of made sense, in a very Arthuresque way. But Merlin was still not ready to let it go.

“I thought you were putting me in my place,” Merlin muttered, looking away, then down at his feet. “You’ve told me a hundred times that you couldn’t be friends with me, that as a prince it just wasn’t done, but I thought it was just your backwards way of saying that we _were_ friends and you cared about me and you were hiding it from the court and your father.” He looked up at that, gazing at a frowning Arthur. “But this time, I thought… I thought you were sending me a clear signal that we could never be friends, that I was just a worthless servant. That I was only there to be the butt of your jokes.”

“Merlin, you are an idiot. You’re worth more than….” With that, Arthur leaned over, then flung his arm around Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing roughly, before letting go. “You… I’ve always held you in high esteem.”

Merlin looked at him in disbelief. They both knew that wasn’t true, at least not in the early days. And Merlin wasn’t sure it was true now, either.

Arthur threw up his hands. “Fine, so early on, we weren’t the best of friends.” Merlin shrugged, and that seemed to spur Arthur on. “Look, you know how it is at court. Princes aren’t allowed to have friends that aren’t of the nobility, certainly not servants. My father has made it very clear that servants are disposable. But…,” Arthur paused, then said, “I’m not my father. Yes, I can’t seem to be friends with my manservant. It just isn’t done. But that doesn’t mean that it’s not true.”

When Merlin frowned at that, thinking about everything Arthur said, it gave him a tiny bit of hope that maybe, just maybe Arthur wasn’t being an utter pillock.

Arthur reached out again, putting one hand on Merlin’s shoulder, holding him still. “But I can’t say it. I can’t. Because if I told my best friend that I don’t want to lose him over a stupid joke, he’ll get the wrong idea and think he can take even more liberties and my father is already suspicious. Besides, the idiot can’t keep a secret to save his life. His head is already full of air and nonsense.”

“Really? Are you talking about George again?” Merlin was half-teasing, half-serious. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his mind racing at the idea that Arthur might actually want him around.

“Not George,” Arthur laughed, then reached up and ruffled Merlin’s hair, before letting him go. “You said you had faith in me. I hope you still do.”

Patting down his hair, sure that Arthur had left it a mess, Merlin said, “I always had faith that you would be a great king someday, but I just wasn’t sure you wanted me around. I’m still not sure.”

“Of course, I want you around. I’ve put too much time and effort into training you to be a crap servant.” When Merlin narrowed his eyes at him, Arthur said, “Face it, Merlin, you _are_ a crap servant. Even George is better at it. You have appalling manners, you always look like you slept in your clothes, you’re extremely forgetful, and you’re in the tavern most of the time….”

Merlin protested, “I don’t go to the tavern.”

“Not what Gaius says,” Arthur said, looking a bit smug about it. When Merlin went to protest again, Arthur shrugged. “But that’s immaterial. You’re _my_ crap servant and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Hey, I’m trying. But between you and Gaius and you getting injured and me having to save your hide every other day, it’s exhausting.” It was exhausting, too. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he had a lie in. Oh, he’d kill for a lie in at this point.

“You saving me? Don’t be ridiculous. I can save myself, thank you very much.” When Merlin just shook his head, knowing that he couldn’t really pull out a list of times he’d saved Arthur because that would be a death sentence what with all the magic he’d used, Arthur took his silence for conceding the point—which it was not. “I’ve had to save you from getting killed more times than I can count. You have no sense of self-preservation, you know that, don’t you?” Arthur waved him off. “No, don’t answer that. We both know it’s true.”

“You’re no better, you know, you great prat. Always going off on quests and getting into trouble.” They both knew that was true, too.

“That’s my job, Merlin,” Arthur said. “Yours is to make my life easier.”

“How am I supposed to do that? Gaius makes me go herb collecting and potion making and then you pile on the chores and hand me over to skivvy for every noble that comes swanning through Camelot and I still write your speeches and clean your stinky socks.”

“You love my stinky socks,” Arthur said, grinning. When Merlin scowled again at him, really Merlin would have permanent scowl marks on his face if he kept it up, Arthur just clapped him on the arm. “Come back, Merlin. You know you want to.”

“You just don’t want to hear any more brass jokes, do you?” Merlin said.

He must have hit the nail on the head because Arthur shrugged. “It would seem George has an endless supply.”

“You’re going to have to prove that you mean it, though.” Merlin wasn’t going to just give in, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Merlin, I am the prince. You should take me at my word.” Arthur put his hand over his heart as if offended, but he was smiling, too.

“Nope, not this time.” Merlin reached over, and picked up the blackened hat. As he did, more ashy feathers fell off but he ignored the mess, shoving it into Arthur’s hands. “Put this on.” 

Arthur looked at Merlin as if he’d lost his mind. “It’s full of soot and the feathers are all falling off. You can’t think that I….”

“Yep, I want to see you in it, soot and all.” Merlin folded his arms across his chest and stood there, waiting.

“ _Merlin_ ….” Arthur looked down at the hideous thing, then back at Merlin as if to see if Merlin was truly going to insist. When he saw the stubborn look on Merlin’s face, he said, “Fine, but if anyone comes in, I’ll blame you.”

“You always blame me. Now won’t be any different.” Unbelievably, Arthur put it on. The feathers kept falling off, there were black marks in Arthur’s soft hair, and Arthur’s glare would have killed lesser men. Merlin tilted his head, trying to look thoughtful when all he wanted to do was laugh. “You should wear it to the next feast. Plus I know of a cape that the mice have been at that would suit you perfectly. A bit of brushing and there you are.”

With that, Arthur tore the horrible thing off his head and threw it at Merlin. Luckily, Merlin was faster than that, jumping aside as it flew past. It skidded along the floor, losing the last of the feathers in a cloud of dust and feather bits. There was a streak of dirt on Arthur’s face and his golden hair would need a good wash at some point.

“Ha, ha, you are not funny, Merlin.” Arthur looked down at his dirty hand, then reached out and cleaned it on Merlin’s shirt. “I want the worst manservant in the Five Kingdoms by my side. Do you know of one?”

“I might.” Merlin looked down at the soot streak on his tunic, then at the marks on Arthur’s cheek. Gods above, they were such idiots together. “But seriously, though, I need a day off once in a while.”

“I don’t get a day off.” Arthur whined. It was true, too, but then royals could have a lie in and just tell their wonderful manservants to go away.

“No, and I don’t have a manservant to cater to my every whim, either,” Merlin said.

Arthur stood there a moment, glaring at Merlin, his eyes narrowed, then finally relented. “Fine, you can have tomorrow off.”

“Is that because I didn’t get today off like I was supposed to?” Merlin pointed out.

“Perhaps.” Arthur gave him a grin, then nodded down toward the rubbish that had once been a hat. “You know, the hat wasn’t the real gift.”

Merlin perked up at that. “Did you open the one from me?”

“Not yet, I thought we might open them together.”

It sounded like a wonderful idea, but Merlin didn’t really want Arthur to get his brand-new scarf all dirty. He said, “Wait here. I’ve manservanting to do.” Then he went over, poured out some water onto a clean cloth and then after washing his own hands, he washed Arthur’s face and hands, dusted off his hair to get out the worst of the feather bits, took out a clean tunic, pulled off Arthur’s filthy one, and pulled a new one back over Arthur’s head. All the while, Arthur was sputtering about how he could do it and did that mean Merlin was rehired and honestly, Merlin, he could wash his own face, thank you very much.

But Merlin was enjoying the closeness again, and protesting aside, Arthur seemed to enjoy it, too. Finally, one last tug to straighten Arthur’s collar, and Merlin stood back, looking at him.

Smiling, he reached over and put his present into Arthur’s hands. “I hope you like it. In Ealdor, Winter Solstice is sacred. We rarely have enough to eat but this is the one day we could just relax and tell each other it would be okay. The presents we give each other are always hand-made and from the heart.”

Pulling out the red scarf, Arthur looked at it, his hands running over the dragon pattern. “It’s beautiful and very soft. You made this?”

Merlin nodded. “Gwen showed me how to knit and I’ve been working on new patterns and such and thought that a dragon should be yours. Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Merlin.” Arthur put it around his neck, positioning the dragon symbol right over his heart. “I’ll treasure it.” Then he went behind the screen and brought back a number of packages. He looked shy, biting his lip as he said, “Princes don’t make anything by hand. I hope they fit.”

Not one to wait and open each slowly, Merlin pulled the ribbons as quickly as he could and pushed aside the parchment for later use. Inside, there were tunics and a couple of pairs of trousers, fine linen, wonderfully made, and in another package, several pair of soft wool socks. It was overwhelming. Merlin hadn’t had so much clothing ever.

“Oh, Arthur, this is too much. I expected maybe some of your castoffs. I heard that’s what nobles did. These look new.” Merlin was grinning at the treasure trove.

“Gwen made patterns from your old clothes when you were working, and I had the tailor make them up. I realise that when you loaned me yours that time William of Deara was here, your things were a bit threadbare and I thought… are they okay?”

Merlin dropped them onto the table, the clean part, then turned around and gave Arthur the hug of his life. “More than okay. I love them.”

Arthur apparently didn’t know where to put his hands, but as Merlin persisted, suddenly Arthur was hugging back and it was like being enveloped in love and warmth and acceptance. 

Finally letting go, Arthur stepped back, then fingering his scarf, looking at Merlin with wonder, he said, “Thank you for this. It’s the best Solstice present I’ve ever received. I have one more to give. I hope it’s something you want.” Then he dove in, kissing Merlin, a soft brush of lips, hesitant, shy and sweet, but with the hint of so much more.

Not knowing what to say, his heart thumping madly at the joy blooming in there, Merlin didn’t want to use words to question why Arthur had done that. Words just confused things, words just twisted and pulled and tore people apart.

Instead, he kissed Arthur back, matching him pressure for pressure, longing for longing, love for love.

And if they went further, exploring, seeking, finding pleasure in touch and taste and sound, well, it was no one’s business but their own. 

But one thing Merlin had to admit when the night was over, and a new day dawned.

It had been the best Solstice ever.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
